The Great Mom Debate: Do You Hand Out Candy For Halloween?

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Oct 4, 2011

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I am the official Halloween Grinch. Most of my attitude stems from a hatred of all things scary and icky. My theory goes that between global warming and O. J. Simpson still roaming free, there are plenty frightening stuff already out there in the real world. I don't need a horror flick to make me pee my pants; I can do that just fine on my own.

Gummy eyeballs, spaghetti brains, slutty costumes, zombies, haunted houses, faux front-yard cemeteries, and yes, even sparkly vampires: I hate it all. Except for one thing: teeny little children dressed in costumes going door-to-door holding out plastic pumpkins in their dimpled fists. I adore trick-or-treaters. I only have two trick-or-treat rules: they can't be old enough to grow real stubble for their hobo costumes and, also, they have to have a costume. As long as the children meet those two criteria, I will pour sugared confections into their buckets all night long while cooing mom-isms like, "Aren't you the prettiest little princess ever?"

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Last year, I had a crisis of conscience. With the obesity crisis growing and a child culture already inundated with treat-giving occasions, is it truly in the little Tinkerbells' and pirates' best interests to hand out Pixy Stix (which, if you think about it, are simply straight sugar packed into a tube so you don't have to even bother chewing it)?

If you've been in a grocery store lately, you will note that alongside the 5,000 different bags of candy lining the shelves, there are a few non-food items, like really expensive stuffed animals, marginally expensive Play-Doh tubs, and cheap pencil erasers. But what child wants a pencil eraser for Halloween? They don't even erase! They just crumble!

So last Halloween, I went online to one of those cheap party sites and ordered dozens of plastic rings, glow-in-the-dark bouncy balls, and glittery tattoos. I threw one bag of sugar-free bubblegum in the bowl for variety's sake. When the trick-or-treaters came knocking Halloween night, it was unmitigated disaster. The bubblegum was gone in 10 minutes, and I had to endure children whining, "No candy left??" for the rest of the evening. Eventually, I just locked the front door and left the bowl on the front porch. Come morning, it was still three-fourths full.